


Queen Jane, Approximately

by pearypie



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Death, Gen, Introspection, Macabre Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:17:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7314850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearypie/pseuds/pearypie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I love you, with a touch of tragedy and quite madly." - Simone de Beauvoir</p><p>[A character study of Sebastian Michaelis.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Queen Jane, Approximately

Goddess of mercy—that was who the tea had been named after. Tieguanyin tea, an atrociously expensive oolong that Sebastian had ordered directly from a semi-unscrupulous Buddhist temple who’d asked no questions about the purchaser. When brewed, the tea took on a pale gold sheen with just the faintest touch of honeydew; it complimented the white porcelain beautifully and gave everything a delicate, tidy sense of order. Sebastian was able to encompass himself in a brief bout of halcyon transcendence whenever he prepared this tea—though rarely did the occasion arise.

Hell itself had no sense of visible, structural order and most everything was either implied or inherent. Most demons—particularly those of a more refined palate—were eager to spend as little time down there as possible. Contracts with worthy candidates were rare and some, Sebastian knew, had to leave their favored domains in order to seduce a costly quarry. He himself took contracts with specified diligence; after that disaster at the Tudor court, Sebastian had made a point of keeping away from royal operations.

Until Ciel.

Oh his young master was such great fun that Sebastian could hardly stand it. Gone were the days of languished boredom—of villainous black and bloodstained red—for this new masque was ever so enjoyable. It was a theater show of great company, a script of magnificent design, filled with the spectral gaudiness that no respectable gentleman would ever deign to look upon. There was a hideousness underneath the blue velvet and sea moon pearls, a twisted, malevolent cancer that Sebastian was cultivating with careful tenderness, as if pruning a rose for spring.

It amused him to no end that this stricken, spoiled little boy could have moments of still grace and epochs of airy address. It almost made the demon inside him laugh—Goethe _was_ correct. Humanity drowned in depravity so vile that even demonic pleasure could not sway their abject desires. Yet each and every one of them tried for redemption; they took to scripture or white silk or colored beads in the hope that heaven’s gates would still be open.

Yet his young master jilted all such pretense. He yearned for the abyss with a resolute determination that, repugnant and beautiful, touched the breadth of ardor. Oh his young master was _in love_ with death, that peaceful Nyx haired maiden of lily-fair skin and violet eyed guile. His master longed for death—and why should he not? Sebastian had never considered oblivion anything short of paradise—or, as close to paradise as the condemned could hope for. There was a simple complexity to his liege lord—a fantastical black humor. He juxtaposed himself with purity even though, against the sable fall, Sebastian thought him a moonlit seraph.

 

Whenever Lady Elizabeth visited, Sebastian was instructed to serve using white and gold trimmed teacups—the ones with hand painted roses and dark, lush green leaves. Wedgwood porcelain his master had purchased in a fit of atrocious fancy. Oh, his little lord feigned vexation at these visits but there was still a child in him somewhere—one who longed for warmth, daylight, and a golden mien.

His imperfect monstrosity—the thin cracks of ivory—were what made his master so _interesting._ It was what made Lady Elizabeth so _mesmerizing._ If the situation ever came down to it, if the night ever tried to suffocate, golden haired Lady Elizabeth would slaughter and kill and soak her white gloved hands in blood and she would look oh so _devastating._ That was the sort of beauty Sebastian loved best—the elegant carnage of long suppressed desire finally bubbling to the surface. It was wild and chaotic but administered with such cool silver efficiency that, without the gore and ichor, would not look out of place on a ballroom floor.

She loved his master dearly and with a touch of tragedy—adoring him with a sense of fatal madness that tantalized Sebastian’s baser appetites. He was reigned in, of course, on a leash of ermine and silk, but the ropes were thin and Lady Elizabeth was delightfully careless. She trusted him— _the demon_ —so implicitly that Sebastian wondered if she would kiss his blood soaked mouth if he ever revealed his true form to her.

If his master was cold perfection then Elizabeth was ebullient chaos. If the earl was a white satin angel doomed to hell then she was the gold crowned Andromeda, chained to sea and stone. Ah the pity—man’s hubris. To throw in the face of power the vanity of the masses—it was a worrisome mystery. Queen Cassiopeia, proud as can be, lauding her own daughter’s beauty above those of Poseidon’s sea nymphs. It was astonishing how men thought opinion could be their sword and shield against divine providence. Sweet Andromeda; all her beauty for naught, stripped naked and chained to a sea rock, ready to be devoured by the sea monster Cetus, had it not been for _Perseus._ Here, Sebastian realized, he had been given two delectably free meals and he _knew_ it wouldn’t take much for his master’s fiancée to follow him to death. With gentle prodding, Sebastian could remind well-worshipped Andromeda that freedom awaited within the sea’s depths—that all she had to do was _let go_ and he could promise, without perjury on his part, that she would be reunited with her beloved Ciel for _all eternity._

He could pretend to be Perseus but perdition harmonized much more gracefully with nightfall. A starless, sombre midnight with cool ocean waves lapping at the shore—why not fall into Cetus and his cold embrace? Why not sink below the waves and find yourself free of obligation and torment so you could just _be?_ Oh Sebastian would cover her in stardust and diamonds before he extracted that bright, burning sun from her strawberry mouth. She could join his thrice damned master in hell while Sebastian, contemplative to the last, observed the petitioner’s agony and the thankless tragedy of love.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Goethe: refers to German writer Johann Wolfgang von Goethe who wrote the tragic play ‘Faust’, about a brilliant scholar who makes a pact with a demon (Mephistopheles). If said demon could give him a moment of perfect, untouched bliss then Faust would go serve the devil in hell. 
> 
> \- Seraph: angel
> 
> \- “She loved his master with a touch of tragedy” — adapted from a quote by Simone de Beauvoir: “I love you, with a touch of tragedy and quite madly.” 
> 
> \- Andromeda: in Greek mythology, the arrogant Aethiopian queen, Cassiopeia, boasted that her daughter Andromeda was more beautiful than Poseidon’s sea nymphs, the Nereids. Angered by her hubris, the sea king commanded that Andromeda be stripped naked and chained to a rock to be devoured by the sea monster Cetus. Yet, as fate would have it, the hero Perseus saw Andromeda’s plight and, using the helmet of Hades, slew the sea monster and freed the princess. 
> 
> (Title references Bob Dylan's song of the same name) 
> 
> A/N: Character study on Sebastian Michaelis. The man is truly a mystery wrapped in an enigma, tied with an inquiry. 
> 
> Feedback appreciated.


End file.
